City of Corruption
by Zaerith Vrinn
Summary: OC based. They are Everyone, and they are No One, but even though they live in a world of rules, even Agents find sometimes they need to break them while facing tough decisions in order to obtain what they desire. OC Agent x OC Human Rating might change.
1. Harris and Kathryn

**Author's Note: **A fanfiction staring my Ocs. This takes place at about the same time as _Hollow_, and there's an incident mentioned in the beginning of this fic that is fully explained in that one, but it is not necessary to read _Hollow_ to enjoy this fic. Contains no spoilers for _Hollow_ either.

**Warning: **This story is largely OC based

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Matrix_, the concepts of the Agents, the Architect, or the Oracle. However, all names you see but do not recognize from the films are mine.

City of Corruption

"I don't know why I _still_ have to say this, Agent Harris: Spit out your gum."

The Agent in question stood without argument and walked to the nearby trash bin, chewing his gum while he still could. At the garbage he gave his gum a final defiant and loud smack before taking it out of his mouth to toss into the trash and returned to his seat. Without the sweet elastic-like piece of sugar between his teeth, Harris' mouth felt lonely and as a result he started sucking on his tongue. Back at the table Harris put his hand in his pocket to feel his pack of gum as if to make sure it was still there, and silently promising himself another piece once this meeting was over.

No one seemed to understand his appreciation for gum chewing, and he couldn't help but feel personally victimized whenever someone told him to spit it out. No one was telling his partner Agent Roberts to put away the _Complete Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_ that he was reading (for the fourth time), nor had anyone made any comment on the hair (from not one, but several cats) that decorated Agent Chalmer's lap. Harris did not know about any of the other Agents present, but he was certain that they all had developed quirks and habits they used to hide their inhumanity from the regular inhabitants of the Matrix.

Harris' liking for gum had started when a security guard on the third floor of this same building had offered him a piece. While Harris had initially intended to turn it down, he had decided that this gum chewing could be seen as a normal human habit and accepted the piece. During his time chewing gum he had noticed lest humans asking him questions about his identity, what his job was, and that the act of chewing gum seemed to help him focus. Ever since it had also been his goal to try every brand of gum available. The flavor of the month at this time was _Juicy Fruit._

Harris noticed Agent Chalmer giving him a disapproving glance and realized he was chewing on his tongue, something he tended to do when he didn't have his gum. Agent Harris clamped his teeth down to avoid further attention. The door opened and the final Agent summoned to this meeting walked though, taking the spot between his already seated partners. Agent Smith, if Harris recalled correctly, apologized for his tardiness, claiming he had some business he needed to take care of before his arrival.

At the front of the table a man clad in white, the Architect, nodded accepting Smith's story and apology. Roberts closed his book and slid it under the table out of the way, and Chalmer went to work brushing cat hair off his pants before the meeting officially began, other agents also fidgeted around and straightened to pay attention. After a few more minutes of preparation, the Architect cleared his throat and began.

"You are all aware of the incident that occurred in this building three days ago. Is that correct?" Harris nodded, of course he was aware, he had been in the middle of it. Smith and Jacobs, the other two Agents who were there when the attack began also nodded. Smith's partners Jones and Brown dipped their heads in agreement, but were not admitting full knowledge of what had happened.

The Architect leaned forward in his chair, so that his hands rested on the table, "At around three twenty-five PM Wednesday, our two remaining candidates for the infiltration project were located on the sixty-fourth floor, northeast side of the building." He explained, "By three-thirty, an attack from unknown assailants had Agents Harris, Jacobs and Smith opening fire to protect those candidates, Jones and Brown arrived on the scene moments after the counter attack began. After the ceasefire the men were identified as a nameless group of hired thugs, with no connection to Morpheus or any other human rebel group."

"The damages to this building will be an easy fix with a simple rewrite of the buildings coding," He went on, "But before I do that, I want to know who is responsible. The information we have on it as of now is that one of the two humans who were under fire on that day, had arranged for this attack. The security team that has already done investigation into this matter concluded that the young woman by the name of Christine Edwards is responsible."

Out of the corner of his eyes Harris saw Agent Smith tense, "But we know that miss Edwards could not be responsible as she lacks the resources and motive for such a well coordinated attack." Smith said.

The Architect nodded in agreement, "It is impossible that Miss Edwards truly is the mastermind behind this, however all evidence currently points in her direction. From the reports you have given chief of security Mr. Snyder you suggest the other woman, Debra Michaels, to be responsible, and I agree that she is the more likely suspect. However..." The Architect's gaze drifted across the room, on all of them, "We must abide by human law. We cannot incriminate Mrs. Michaels unless we can prove she was involved."

Harris inwardly rolled his eyes, humans and their rules.

"I want both Miss Edwards and Mrs. Michaels put under surveillance. Miss Edwards I do not believe to be a threat, but those who do could end up doing more harm than good. Just make sure she is not put in any danger by human authorities. Mrs. Michaels, however, I want to be watched constantly, her mail needs to be check, her phone tapped. She must not go anywhere without one of you knowing where she is and who she is talking to. Is that understood?"

The Agents all nodded.

"Good." The architect's posture relaxed a little. Agent Smith, you and your team keep watch over Miss Edwards. Agent Chalmer, you and your men keep an eye on Mrs. Michaels, she should be at her company, make sure she doesn't see you. The rest of you begin looking for any connection Mrs. Michaels has to the men who attacked us the other day."

The Agents collectively nodded and the Architect then began to elaborate on the details, each team pitching in on when and where each Agent would be. Agent Harris was assigned to wait in a cafe across the street from the Michaels family tower, and after about a half an hour later the plans were put into action.

Agent Roberts was going to be at the subway station a few blocks away from the building, in case Mrs. Michaels was traveling across town today, while Agent Chalmer drove around town to her home and places she was likely to be seen at, so Harris was forced to transfer his consciousness across the Matrix to be where he had been assigned. There was a homeless man taking up residence in a cardboard box in an alley behind the cafe who provided an opportune host for Harris, making the rest of his trip to the cafe event free. The only downside to traveling this way was that anything an Agent had with him that was not part of his original programing vanished.

Harris felt at his pocket to be sure: no gum.

Adjusting his tie a bit Harris left the alley and eyed the entrance to Michaels company building, scanning the faces of the humans exiting the building for their lunch break for the countenance of the middle aged human female identified as Debra Michaels. None matched her description and soon enough the flow of people exiting the building slowed enough that Harris felt now was a good time to turn his back and enter the cafe.

It was a small place, nestled between two larger buildings, a little cramped but with good business due to it's location. In fact Harris noticed a few of the people he'd witnessed leave the Michaels building had gone into this small store to buy a sandwich or a platter of fruit. The Cafe was owned by a large redheaded woman, not obese, but working off baby weight from bearing multiple children. Several workers dashing around the cafe also sported the same red hair, possibly her children making this a family owned business, a rare thing these days.

The Matrix was beginning to show its age, with the human society beginning to crumble, first economically, then socially until the whole thing came apart, in the event that did happen, humans would awaken from their dream world and the machines would have to start over, which was why the Matrix needed to be reloaded every century or so. Harris figured they had about ten years before they would need to reload to prevent a shut down. It would be the first reload since Harris was programmed and he admitted some slight discomfort with the idea, a nervousness his partners had said was common among young Agents experiencing their first reload.

A woman approached him, "Can I help you with something sir?" She asked. The girl was one of the red heads with thick straight hair flowing past her shoulders in a high ponytail to keep it out of the food she served. She was at least twenty-five years in age but no more than thirty. Her cheeks were covered with a thin amount of freckles, just under a set of bright green yes. The name tag pinned to her shirt read Kathryn B.

Harris nodded to be polite, "Do you sell newspapers here?" he asked trying to blend with the humans whom he had often noted read the news while waiting for something.

"Um, no I think we sold out of today's newspaper an hour ago." Kathryn said, "We do have crossword books, would you like one of them?"

"If that's what you have, that will do. Thank you." He told her, she smiled and turned away from him to retrieve the book. Harris noticed a stand near the front of the Cafe that had packages of gum, and overlooked the types they were selling, they didn't have his flavor of the month so he picked a generic package with an unmemorable name, and ordered a cup of coffee. Kathryn returned to him with the book of crosswords she'd promised, and Harris handed her a card Agents were equipped with to handle monetary transactions when they were dealing with humans, Harris didn't care too much for the details.

Once his order was placed Harris found a small table close to the window with a good view of the Michaels building, got a piece of gum and opened the crossword book. The coffee was placed on his table, but Harris didn't touch it for several minutes, balancing his attention between his crossword and the building across the street.

_A word that means the same as another_: A synonym.

_Homer's telling of the Trojan War:_ The Illiad.

_The fifth planet from the Sun:_ Jupiter.

Harris was already bored by the puzzles in the beginning of the book, humans who could not figure out clues this simple could not be very smart. He took a sip from his coffee and took another glimpse through the window for Mrs. Michaels before he flipped through the pages of the book looking for a puzzle little more challenging. Finding one his scratched down answers between glances at the building opposite.

_Translates to "Seize the day":_

"Carpe Diem." Harris looked up to see the waitress Kathryn at his table with a pot of fresh coffee, probably meant to refill his slowly emptying cup. She was looking at his crossword book and noticed he had stopped at this particular clue. "Sorry." Kathryn said, looking away, "I'm taking a Latin course, I can't help myself, anytime I see Latin I translate it." She explained with a giggle and refilled his cup. "Can I get you anything else?"

Harris shook his head and thanked her before returning to the crossword puzzle. He kept looking over at the building occasionally he touched his earpiece to report that the target had not been seen entering or leaving the building while Roberts and Chalmer reported that they too did not see her in their respective search areas.

Kathryn refilled his cup at half-empty three more times. Still no sign of Debra Michaels, Harris had also just finished another puzzle and was about to flip to a new page when Kathryn approached his table again. Thinking she was going to refill his coffee again, Harris was surprised when she instead set a piece of fresh baked apple pie in front of him.

"On the house." she said, "Sorry she didn't come." The red headed woman turned away, leaving Harris to wonder why she had given him the pie and what she had meant by what she'd said.

For that precise reason, Harris didn't touch the pie and instead continued as he had been doing for the last...Harris wasn't sure how long he'd been at the cafe, but Roberts was reporting that Mrs. Michaels was not at the subway boarding or getting of the trains, and that by this time she probably would have no use, Chalmer was going to check her home once more before he picked Roberts up and came to fetch Harris.

The woman seemed to have vanished for now, but soon enough the Agents would pick up her trail. No one could stay hidden in the Matrix for very long.

"Don't like apple pie?"

Kathryn was back.

Harris looked between her and the pie, "I didn't order it." He said simply.

"It's our policy." Kathryn explained, "Whenever someone has a bad date in our cafe they get a free piece of pie. I can get you a different kind if you don't eat apple or have allergies."

Bad date?

Harris saw her error imminently and shook his head, "You misunderstand. I am not here for a date, I'm here because-"

He stopped in mid sentence when Agent Chalmer called through the earpiece. His hand flew to it to hear better, _"Harris I've just spotted Mrs. Michaels. She has just left her house and appears to be heading in your direction. I will follow from a distance, Harris watch for her. Roberts you find a vantage point on the other side of the block."_

"Understood." Harris and Roberts replied simultaneously. Kathryn stared at him with wide eyes, he color flowing over her cheeks as her mistake dawned on her. Harris felt the need to explain it to her at least partially, "We are simply keeping someone under surveillance under suspicion of foul play. Nothing more, you may take the pie back."

Kathryn smiled shyly, but shook her head. "No. You keep it, it's on the house." She repeated and turned away to take care a some other customers.

Harris was slightly puzzled by her choice of action, but accepted the pie anyway. His gum had lost its flavor sometime ago and he gently took it out of his mouth so that he could eat the pie and maintain an appearance of being human.

_"Harris Mrs. Michaels has parked her car and is heading right for you."_ Roberts said.

"What should I do?" Harris replied.

Chalmer answered, _"The Architect said to merely keep a watch on her. If you see her, take note if she talks to anyone and who they are, do not interact with her."_

"Understood." Harris responded.

A few minutes later he saw Debra Michaels walking down the street. He thought she would cross to the company she owned, but instead she was heading for the cafe. Harris removed his jacket and took off his sunglasses, a ploy he understood helped to keep him from being too easily recognized. The older woman came in and was ushered to a seat across the cafe from Harris, facing him, but she did not acknowledge that she knew who he was.

Kathryn went to her, Harris supposed talking to a waitress was hardly note worthy, but he kept his eyes on both of them. The red headed young woman took her order, and was often coming back and forth to Mrs. Michaels to ask if she needed anything, always getting a head shake in response. Harris had started to ignore Kathryn's visits to Debra's table when she approached him whispering, "She's waiting for a guy named Frank Larson, he's a regular around here, but not a good sort of guy. Is that helpful to you?"

Harris looked at her questioningly, "I beg your pardon?"

Kathryn took out her waitressing book and wrote something down like she was taking his order but kept her voice quiet, "You haven't taken your eyes off that lady since she came in, so I assume she's the target you've been waiting for all day?"

"That's quite observant of you Miss...uh." He didn't know her last name so he trailed off in the middle of his compliment.

"Baker." She told him, "Kathryn Baker. And who ever that woman is she just asked if he was here yet, you'd better redirect your attention, Mr. Larson is a greater danger."

"How so?" Harris asked.

"Seriously, you're some sort of government agent and you don't know Frank Larson?" Kathyrn seemed surprised, "The Larson family has lived in these parts for a while, they know everyone, and their weak spots. If you ever want something done, a murder, a robbery, whatever, all you need to do is talk to one of the Larsons they can arrange it for you." She explained.

"What about an act of terrorism?" Harris asked.

Kathryn hesitated, "I've never heard of them doing anything that big, but I suppose for the right price, they would do just about anything."

Harris's hand flew to his earpiece, "Thank you Miss. Baker, you may have just saved me a lot of time." He told her then whispered into his earpiece as she left, "This is Agent Harris, I have just gotten a tip on how Mrs. Michaels might have been involved with the attack. Someone go back to the Source and look up any information we have on a Frank Larson."

_"Who gave you this tip?"_ Roberts asked.

"A waitress. Mrs. Michaels is meeting him here. What should I do if he arrives?"

There was a long period of silence before the Architect's voice came through the receiver. _"There's nothing more you can do there without drawing too much attention, fall back and just make sure we know where Debra Michaels is, I'll send a separate team out to keep an eye on this Frank Larson."_

"Understood." Harris stood and gathered his things, choosing to hold onto his sunglasses and hang his jacket over his arm. He also popped a fresh piece of gum into his mouth, before he approached Kathryn Baker again. She was taking someone's order, so he waited but at last she turn back and jumped to see him right behind her.

"Do you need something Mr. Harris?" Clearly she'd overheard at least his name before she'd left.

"Just Harris, please." He said, "And I just wanted to thank you again for your help. I do not have any cash with me right now, but I promise next time I visit you will receive a very generous tip from me."

"Oooh, sounds like you have a new admirer Kitty." One of the girls at the table Kathryn had just finished with teased.

"Oh come on Jess, he's just trying to be polite," The waitress replied, before she turned back to Harris, "And thank you, but that's not necessary."

"I insist, good day Miss Baker." He did not wait for a reply before he left. He was halfway down the block before he saw Chalmer's car turning the corner. The car pulled over so that Harris could climb in, Roberts had already been picked up. The Architect called for another meeting to discuss the new details involving Frank Larson, so they were on their way and back at the building within minutes, the other Agent teams had been recalled as well. The Architect was the last to arrive this time, he strode across the room and took his seat at the front of the table, and opened his mouth to settle the first order of business.

"Agent Harris spit out your gum."

**Author's note: **This will be an on going story but it will not update as often as _Hollow_ and I don't think there will be any other crossovers with that story, but just be aware that it takes place at about the same time.


	2. Perfect Worlds

**Author's Note: **I want to make this story different from _Hollow_ even though it takes place at the same time and in the same AU setting, so this and other chapters will be from alternating perspectives of my main three Agent Ocs, and maybe Kathryn later on.

**Warning: **OC, and this chapter is really sort of an all talk no action deal, but it's full of explanations as to why my Ocs have their quirks and some theories I have about the Agents and the Matrix itself so it will at least be an interesting read. It also foreshadows stuff that happens in the movies, might foreshadow Hollow.

**Disclaimer: **I could probably pass this off as an original story, but alas the Matrix does not belong to me; so if you recognize characters from the series, they are for the use of fanfiction only. I have no ownership of them.

City of Corruption

In a perfect world there would be no need for Agents.

In a perfect world, humans would live happy lives without suffering, oblivious to the fact that they were living in a dream. That the reality was they were no more than crops on a farm, being grown, harvested, sold, bought and used as a living energy source. In their perfect world they would need no guardians.

In a less than perfect world there would be a few: the old, the insane, maybe those with religious vigor, who understood that something was wrong. The Agents would only monitor them, keep them in line in case a revolt started. They would be a single entity with many bodies, with one clear purpose: to keep the ignorant blissful.

Yet in spite of attempts, the Matrix was not a perfect world. Humans were flawed, and so the world had to be flawed, but still humans adapted, as years within their flawed prison passed, more and more seemed to figure out that the world they lived in was not real. The Agents then needed to become more than guardians, they needed to be a force to fight, an enemy that the humans could face, but not win.

They were designed to be perfection within an imperfect world.

In a perfect world, Agent would have been single-minded beings that served only their purpose and nothing more.

But the Matrix was not a perfect world.

Even perfection was flawed.

Agent Chalmer knew this better than some of his colleagues. He was one of the oldest Agents still in use. The truth was that constant exposure to humans and their many imperfections often led to subtle changes to an Agent, stirring individuality among conformity. This had started when it was deemed necessary to give them names, expressions of individuality. _He_ was Agent Chalmer, Agent Roberts was _not._ How to tell the difference?

It was evolutionary.

It was dangerous.

Most Agents developed small hobbies, that were near impossible to notice among the similarities among the Agents, and some did not even realize they were doing it. An Agent he had worked with long ago had a tenancy to roll his fingers while expressing impatience, there was an Agent named Smith that Chalmer knew listened to classical music in his car. His own current partners had their own small individual habits.

Agent Roberts enjoyed reading in his spare time, and was often found with a book or two under his seat in the car, sometimes reading the same book over and over. Agent Harris liked to chew gum, the only problem with this was that it drew far too much attention, and was really annoying depending on who was asked.

But these were harmless quirks, nothing that drove them apart from other Agents, to a state of 'insanity'. Chalmer was old enough to know how dangerous an Agent could be when they became too independent. Individuality was unpredictable when it came from a species of conformity. Once an Agent had tried to leave the Source, the result had been a near catastrophe, which was why Agents were typically recalled for deletion when they stood out too much. A little independence was necessary, too much threatened their world, imperfect as it was.

So Chalmer learned to keep his head low, and conform even when he discovered his deep respect for cats.

They were not real, or even avatars like the humans, they were simply programs, like the Agents, that were designed to look at act like the organic life forms humans called 'cats'. Chalmer wasn't sure if any of the animal programs were aware that they lived in a fake world, except for cats. They had a certain glimmer of smug intelligence in their eyes that begged to question the limit of their perception, and yet they remain entities of pure indifference whether they knew or not, they simply did not care what reality was. In that way, Chalmer felt a certain bond to felines.

Once, when he had been younger, he had felt the pressure of the world around him, his life was a boat in a bottle, and all he wanted was to escape. He fought long and hard, against human rebels, against exiles, hoping to destroy Zion so that he would no longer be needed.

But then he faced an Epiphany: Agents were nothing more than a distraction.

The Matrix was an imperfect world, one that needed to be reloaded, remade, anytime it started to fall apart. To do that, they needed the anomaly of the One to give the humans something to fight for, and the Agents to give the humans to fight against. It was a never ending cycle. Nothing an Agent did, no matter who they were or why they did it, would ever change what needed to happen, and if they did the results would be disastrous. That didn't mean Chalmer didn't try to fight his destiny. He acted out once.

Once.

Chalmer could not longer recall what he had done, because his punishment was a mere rewrite, parts of his memory were modified, so that he could not remember what he had done, or why he had done it. They had left blank spots in his memory on purpose, to leave a message: you are owned by us, we are your gods. They could have deleted him, like they had with other Agents that refused to obey, perhaps they would have if he what he had done had been a bigger offense. But they hadn't.

They owned him.

They owned all of them.

There was no way to fight their purpose, nothing they could do except go on as _they_ planned. Chalmer couldn't even hate it without getting a certain amount of reprimand, but he would never like it either and so like the cats, he chose to be indifferent. Following orders but secretly wishing he had a choice, going with the flow but maintaining what little individuality he was allowed.

And so Chalmer's hand left the head of one of the cats that he had familiarized himself with, the familiar sound of the Source calling his attention to an incident involving Zion rebels that was occurring about two blocks from his present location. Roberts and Harris would be dropping what they were doing to respond, as the eldest of their trio nothing less was expected of Chalmer. He vanished from human sight so that he could transfer his consciousness across the Matrix to a new host, one closer to the action. Harris and Roberts were already there. Guns began firing at them with no regard to whether or not the Agents actually wanted to be there.

In Chalmer's perfect world, the Agents wouldn't have to hide anymore.

But the Matrix was not perfect.

**Author's end note: **So sorry if anyone thought that was boring or I was just rambling, but I do still think this is important to have in this fic.


	3. Dancing Men

**Author's Note: **I may be updating this alongside _Hollow_ but these chapters do not intertwine.

**Warning:** Roberts POV.

**Disclaimer: **Standard disclaimer applies, if you recognize any names from the movie(s) I do not own them, if you recognize a name because they are character I created for this story they are mine. Any other similarities are purely coincidental. The quotes used by Roberts are all from various _Sherlock Holmes_ books. The title of this chapter is also a Sherlock Holmes reference.

City of Corruption

"And what do you think we are going to accomplish here?" Agent Chalmer asked as he pulled up to the cafe where the youngest member of their trio had received a tip from one of the waitresses regarding to how Mrs. Michaels had arranged her fake terrorist attack.

Agent Roberts exited out of the passenger's side seat, while Chalmer left the drives and Agent Harris, the receiver of the tip got out from the seat behind him. Roberts answered with a favorite quote from a favorite novel "Data! Data! Data!" he replied with words not his own "I can't make bricks without clay."

Chalmer made an irritated noise, and Harris glanced at him questioningly, "Why are you making bricks? And what does that have to do with us being here?" he asked around his gum.

As Harris' habit of chewing gum often annoyed his peers, likewise did Roberts use of literary metaphors and quotes sometimes land him in a position where others were not pleased with him. "What I mean is a complete investigation of the man identified as Frank Larson cannot be started unless we interview those who know anything about him." He nodded to the cafe, "You received the first mention of his name here, and so logically here is the best place to start questioning."

"But what does clay have to do with anything?" Harris asked.

Roberts opened his mouth to answer, but the ever impatient Chalmer cut him off, "He's quoting from his books again." The senior Agent explained, and then he turned to Roberts, "You need to stop that. After you read those _Sherlock Holmes_ books you have been giving off an attitude of superiority. You are no smarter than any of the rest of us, so drop the facade before it becomes a problem."

Roberts hated being scolded, and he especially when the underlining message had to do with his books. Reading was a perfectly good hobby, much better than sitting around petting cats or obnoxiously chewing gum. It provided a simulated escape from their world, entertainment, and despite what Chalmer might think, Roberts felt he had become smarter since he started reading. He felt a kinship to the characters in books, as they only existed within the worlds of their novels, much as he and the other Agents only existed within the world of the Matrix. Finding such a link spurred him to read more, so that he had a better understanding of his own world, his own life. To him his favorite literary character Sherlock Holmes was as real as any of the Agents.

But Chalmer was more experienced then either him or Harris so his word was final, Roberts shut his mouth and silently vowed not to use another quote from any of his books in front of his partners. Despite the subject being dropped, Roberts did catch Harris mouthing the words 'bricks' and 'clay' contemplatively as they entered the cafe.

As Harris was the only one who could identify their first subject, the waitress who had initially given him the name Frank Larson, he was in charge of this inquiry. He glanced around once and motioned for his partners to stay where they were while he approached one of the red hair humans who worked at this cafe. Roberts looked around, trying to gather as much information as he could from a mere look at the place. The Cafe was family owned as Harris had already identified, from the state of the place it was doing well in troubled times, but not necessarily without its own financial woes. There was a moderately filled tip jar that read COLLEGE FUND that suggested at least one of the offspring of the original owners did no intend to stay and keep the slowly dying cafe running until the last desperate hour, wanting to reach into other fields to earn their way in the world.

The human Harris spoke to, a male, disappeared into the back and reappeared a moment later with a female, one of his siblings: the woman Harris had spoken to during his previous visit, Kathryn Baker. Today she had her hair in two braids that fell gracefully over her shoulders. The younger Agent beckoned his partners over. The woman smiled politely as they seated around a table.

"Well this is a pleasant surprise, I was just getting an extreme case of Disha-vu." She said still smiling.

"Disha-Vu?" Harris repeated.

She lifted her hands in response, they were damp and slightly wrinkled from being under running water for an extended period of time. "The feeling that I've done those damn dishes before!" She joked, when the Agents failed to even crack a smile at the pun she lowered her hands and her expression grew serious, "So what can I help you boys with."

"We are here to inquire about the man you mentioned to Agent Harris the last time you spoke." Roberts replied, "Our organization has taken some interest in the matter and any information you can provide us with will be helpful to the investigation."

Chalmer shot him a look, nudging him slightly with his foot to remind him that Harris was supposed to be leading this interview. Kathryn too looked at Harris, obviously more comfortable talking to the Agent with whom she was already acquainted.

Harris nodded at her confirming Roberts claim and continuing, "If you are uncomfortable answering our questions in such a public environment we can arrange for a more private consultation at our headquarters."

Kathryn shook her head, "No, its okay if you ask me questions here, I'm not afraid to answer as long as we stay quiet, you never really know who's listening."

"Then perhaps we should do this interview at headquarters." Roberts suggested, Chalmer nudged him again, "Of course this is up to you Miss Baker." He added.

Kathryn raised an alarmed finger to her lips, startling all three Agents into looking up to see if anyone was about to start a gunfight over the Larson issue, but Kathryn merely pointed to the older female at the front of the cafe. "Sorry, didn't mean anything by that, just easy with the 'Miss' business, my mother doesn't need anymore reminds that I'm twenty-seven and not married yet. Either call me Kathryn or Kitty."

Roberts raised an eyebrow, it seemed unusual that this woman's mother would be concerned over her daughter's marital status in the day and age the Matrix was simulating. Though he was confused, Harris appeared even more so, but chose to continue with the inquiry, "Well Miss- er- Kathryn, if you are fine with answering questions here then I believe we can begin..."

"Ready when you are." She said.

The Harris slipped a mini pad of paper and a pen out of his jacket to record the human's answers, also at some point his gum had vanished, either because he'd thrown it out when no one was watching or because he had swallowed it. "First question: Have you ever met Frank Larson or any of members of his family?"

"Not officially." Kathryn answered, "And by that I don't mean that don't mean I've ever asked for a favor with a phone call or anything, its just a rumor that Frank Larson comes into this cafe from time to time. If he ever really has, I don't know about it. Even that last time you were here he didn't even show up, my mum just got a call from him saying to tell that woman that their meeting was canceled."

"I suppose we can skip question two as it was whether or not you have ever had dealings with Mr. Larson." Chalmer mused aloud. Roberts might get a nudge or a hard glance when he interrupted an interview he was not conducting, but Chalmer got to speak freely.

"Have you ever been threatened by Mr. Larson or by any of his family or associates?" Harris asked without acknowledging Chalmer's comment

"Yes and no." Kathryn replied, her eyes darted to her mother, "No one has threatened me personally, but guys come in here all the time name dropping the Larson family if they don't get what they want, threatening to get us closed down."

"Is it possible for them to do that?" Harris asked, not quite off the record.

"I don't know if these guys are actually with the Larsons, but we don't risk it, this place is all we have." Kathryn's eyes got red and angry, "People come in asking for money as part of a 'keep you guys out of trouble tax' and take off with half our profits for the week."

"You have not reported this to the police?"

Kathryn gave a bitter laugh, "What can they do? What can you guys do? We don't even know who Frank Larson is!" She started to shake, and she clutched the decorative cross that hung around her neck, "I'm getting out of this damned city as soon as I get my PHD, but what will happen to my family if the Larsons _do_ shut us down?"

Harris reached across the table to take Kathryn's trembling hand, a gesture of reassurance humans used on one another that Agents were encouraged to mimic when necessary to blend in. "We have certain above the normal law methods which the typical law enforcement lack the authority to use. We will track down these Larsons, and if it is deemed worth our effort, we will deal with the problem." Harris took his hand back, "But we cannot do that unless we have more information. Are you ready to continue with the questioning?"

Kathryn nodded, "Though I don't think I can be of any more help, anything else I know is just rumors."

"Rumors are a fine starting point. Do any of these rumors say anything about how to contact any of the Larsons?"

Kathryn grabbed a napkin from the holder on the table and a pen from her own pocket and started to write down something, "Nobody ever gets to Larson directly, but rumor has it there's a restaurant you can go to that his associates frequent, ask around there and someone is bound to know who you're talking about and they'll pass your message along." She slid the napkin to Harris, "That's the address, I'm not sure about the name of the place, it's French, I'm studying Latin."

"You mentioned that the last time we met- oh, I forgot your tip..." Harris said, Kathryn shook her head, saying it was fine, but Harris insisted that he'd remember the next time he came. He then glanced to Chalmer and Roberts, all of them were thinking the same thing, Chalmer nodded at Roberts giving him permission to speak this time.

"You said the restaurant was French, yes?" he got a nod in response, "Was the restaurant _Le Vrai?"_

Kathryn's brow crinkled, "That might have been it." She said but she didn't sound sure.

"Well Miss Bak-" Kathryn coughed uncomfortably, her eyes darting back to her mother who was tossing a disapproving look in their direction, "Ahem, Kathryn, I believe we have enough to go on for now." Harris tore a spare piece of paper from his note pad and wrote down a series of numbers which when typed into a phone put the caller through directly to his earpiece, and handed it to Kathryn, "If you think of or hear anything that could be of the slightest help to this investigation feel free to call."

Kathryn accepted the paper, "I know a few people who might might be talked into answering a few questions for your investigation, maybe I can arrange for them to meet you." She said.

"That would be a great help Miss Baker." Roberts said as the group rose from the table without regard to the human's preference of using her first name, an action he regretted when the older plumper _Mrs_ Baker came over.

"You know what would be a great help?" She said, with a very distinct Irish accent, "If one o' you boys took my little Kathryn here and made an honest woman outta 'er." she said wrapping an arm around her daughter's shoulder.

Kathryn's face burst into an immediate flow of color that clashed with her hair, "Mother!" she gasped.

But the older woman did not seem fazed by her clear embarrassment, "She's all grown and moved into her own apartment, but we haven't had a man steadily accompany her to family dinners since she left that old high school of er's, and I want grand kids girl!" She then turned her attention to the Agents, "Any of you interested?"

"Mom that's not what they're here for!" Kathryn said, her own Irish accent starting to break through with her alarm at the conversation's sudden shift in topic.

Her mother snatched the paper with Harris' contact on it from Kathryn's fingers, "Then why is he giving you his phone number?" She teased.

Chalmer broke up the debate, "Apologies madam, your daughter is a lovely woman, but we are not interested in any form of courtship with her, we are strictly here on business, and if you would kindly quit making a scene we will take our leave."

Mrs. Baker gave a playful laugh, "Oh you say that now, but after a few visits I bet you'll change your mind." She winked at Harris in specific taking his arm and pushing him toward Kathryn. Unsure of how to respond Harris looked desperately at his partners for help.

Roberts pulled Harris back from Kathryn, "We are flattered Madam, truly, but our agency is not currently running a marital program." He offered, sounding sarcastic, Mrs. Baker finally let them go, and Kathryn's face continued to change colors as she talked quietly with her mother about the how embarrassing it was when she tried to set her up with every single guy that walked into the cafe.

Back in the solitude of their car, the Agents exchanged their theory, "A human with the contacts to bring down a business is no concern to the Agency." Chalmer said as he started the engine, though the car was shared between this team of Agents, Chalmer seemed to have a permanent 'dibs', as the popular term was, on driving.

Roberts was in the front passenger side seat 'shotgun', "Unless he _isn't_ human." he continued

"The Merovingian." Harris concluded the thought that Chalmer had started. Among their teams, the bond between the three Agents sometimes bordered on a hive mind, so it wasn't uncommon for Agents to follow the same thought process and finish each others sentences.

"'He is the Napoleon of crime. He is the organizer of half that is evil and nearly all that is undetected in this great city...'" Chalmer shot him a plainly disapproving look, and Roberts remembered his earlier vow to not quote from books. "I just mean that Mr. Larson is like our friend The Frenchman and shares a lot in common with Professor James Moriarty."

"Perhaps they are one and the same." Chalmer agreed though he still did not appreciate the description they shared.

Harris raised an eyebrow "The Merovingian and Moriarty?" He asked, unsure if he had understood their meaning correctly, Roberts spoke of the books he read enough that he got the gist of the comparison.

"The Merovingian and Mr. Larson." Chalmer clarified, "I would not put it past The Merovingian to use a number of aliases to conduct his business, it may be that Frank Larson _is_ the Merovingian. Even if he is not, he would be able to provide us with some answers. You know what lesser programs call him right?"

The question was directed at Harris, still pretty young in terms of the Agency, and having never dealt with the old program now called the Merovingian. Harris nodded. "The Trafficker of information." He answered.

The Merovingian came from one of the previous versions of the Matrix, most of his origin story was shrouded in information the Agency had dubbed unimportant. Rumor had it he was running a number of illegal activities, though the course of several years investigations lead to many arrests and the deletion of lower programs, but there simply was too much going on and not enough evidence to convict The Merovingian of any involvement if he was at all.

_He sits motionless, like a spider in the centre of its web, _Roberts remembered to keep his quoting to himself this time, _but that web has a thousand radiations, and he knows well every quiver of each of them. He does little himself. He only plans. But his agents are numerous and splendidly organised. Is there a crime to be done, a paper to be abstracted, we will say, a house to be rifled, a man to be removed- the word is passed to the Professor, the matter is organised and carried out. The agent may be caught. In that case money is found for his bail or his defence. But the central power which uses the agent is never caught- never so much as suspected..._

"It seems we must pay The Frenchman a visit for a little." Roberts added out loud as the car turned on to the highway to faster reach the _Le Vrai._

**Author's end note: **...Moo.


	4. J'ai le coeur brisé

**Author's note: **This chapter of _City of Corruption_ takes place on the same day as chapter ten of _Hollow_, and has a very minor crossover, being that the meeting they are going to at the end of this chapter is the one that takes place in that story. Also the Merovingian and Persephone think that the Agents are trying to continue an investigation started by Smith in chapter seven of _Hollow, _which also explains the Venus Project.

**Warning: **Possible OOCness for The Merovingian and Persephone due to this taking place several years before the original movies. Chalmer's POV. Shades of Chalmer/Persephone.

**Disclaimer:** I only claim the right to Agents Chalmer, Harris and Roberts. Any names and locations you recognize do not belong to me.

City of Corruption

_ Le Vrai_ was on and off the Agency's alert list, meaning that if something suspicious happened, the Merovingian was a top suspect of at least one Agent every time. No move against him could be made without evidence, so the program was always getting away even when Agents were sure he was involved with a crime. This wasn't necessarily bad, sometimes the information that the Frenchman was willing to give was of use to the Agents.

Even so, Chalmer and his partners exchanged a glance before they entered the restaurant: Nobody said anything that could potentially turn the Merovingian against them. That meant this time Chalmer would lead the investigation, as he had dealings with him in the past that made him the most experienced with the Frenchman.

The trio of Agents opened the doors, the place was fancy, a suggestion at the Merovingian's wealth. There was a greeting room in the front with a sign that read 'please wait to be seated.' Chalmer faced his partners with his back to anyone who might be coming up. "The Merovingian will see us because we are Agents and he wants to appear as if he is cooperating, but he never sees anyone alone," he explained, "You two keep an eye on his companions, they will be easier to read than him, watch for any facial twitch that indicate that they are hiding something."

Harris and Roberts nodded and the sharp click-clack of a woman in high heels sounded behind Chalmer. "More Agents? Do you have more questions for my hus-" Chalmer felt his insides freeze as he turned around, he remembered that voice. She remembered him too because immediately she broke into a stunned silence and froze where she was, still several feet from them. "Ch-Chalmer?" She didn't sound like she believed her eyes.

Harris and Roberts looked to him for an explanation, but Chalmer could not believe his eyes either. The senior Agent's throat bobbed up and down in an uncomfortable swallow. "Hello Persephone..." He said at last in a dead calm that still couldn't hide his surprise at seeing the woman before him, "What are you doing here?"

She was wearing an artsy purple dress decorated with lace and expensive jewelery. "I...I" Persephone put her hands behind her back as if she was deliberately hiding something, "I work here." she said, an obvious lie. But what truth was she concealing?

"Ah Persephone, my love, what have we here?" A man's voice came from the same way she had come, and within a few steps he was in view. Chalmer recognized the Merovingian from their previous dealings, "Oh, you guys again, three this time? My wife so scary that you had to call for reinforcements?"

"Wife?" Chalmer glanced at Persephone, the expression of shock both on his face and in his voice so subtle that only a fellow Agent would catch it.

While Persephone shyly pulled her hand back from it's hiding place to show Chalmer the diamond ring on her finger, Roberts took the time to ask a more relevant question, "When was another Agent here?"

The Merovingian got a contemplative look on his face, calculating the advantages and disadvantages of answering. Trying to decide if telling the truth, or trying to lie would be better for his current situation."Hm, I think only a week ago. Maybe a few days more. Persephone, my darling, what do you think?"

Persephone's eyes were still on Chalmer when she nodded, "That sounds right." She answered meekly.

"Why was he here?" Harris inquired.

By now the Merovingian had noticed the look Persephone was giving Chalmer, and the Agent's distracted demeanor. "Hm? Oh never mind, if you don't know it's not important." He decided avoiding answering Harris's question was to his advantage and wrapped his arm around Persephone's shoulder, pulling her against him, "What can I help you with now, then?"

Harris and Roberts looked at Chalmer expectantly, waiting for him to lead the questioning. His eyes remained on Persephone a fraction of a second longer before his attention went fully to her husband. "I am sure you heard about the attack on our facility...at around the same time you claim another Agent was here, about a week ago?"

The Frenchman looked uncomfortable as if he were a child that had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Why don't we go sit down?" He said, pulling Persephone by the arm further into the restaurant. She looked back at Chalmer once more before looking ahead of her and taking her husband's hand in hers, though the Merovingian did not release her arm.

The Agents followed to a table in a section of the restaurant that was closed off to minors. There was a private booth for Persephone and The Merovingian, which was also occupied at this time by a few other programs. They immediately tensed when the Agents sat with them, probably exiles who thought they'd been ratted out, but when the three new arrivals failed to produce their weapons tensions relaxed, they weren't there for them.

"So…" The Merovingian took his seat and his hand disappeared under the table, Persephone's face brightened and she looked at her hands which were folded across the table uncomfortably, which made Chalmer tense. "You are investigating an attack…and you think I may be involved?" He asked sounding almost insulted.

Chalmer was resisting the urge to reach across from him to take Persephone's hand. A long time ago Chalmer had participated in 'the Venus Project', in which female programs were designed to play the counterparts of Agents who volunteered for the Project. Persephone had been his partner. He hadn't been too sure of the project when it had begun; Persephone was so passionate, always smiling, always wanting attention that he couldn't give her because of his job.

But they had made it work.

Most Agent and Venus pairs fell apart because the Agents put their jobs above the Venus project, others vise-verse, but Chalmer and Persephone had found a balance between the aspects of Chalmer's life, the worker, and the lover. Sometimes he had to leave when they were together and sometimes he didn't return for days, but when he did she was always there waiting for him, and he could give her his full attention. That made her happy, and even Chalmer had to admit he was enjoying their time together.

But then the project was shut down, and since they served no other purpose, the Venus programs were ordered for deletion. Persephone was devastated, and Chalmer…He wouldn't let her go. He wasn't a gallant Agent who outright defied the Source as some of the more smitten Agents had. He was subtle, he got help to sneak Persephone out of harm's way, so that no one would ever suspect he hadn't obeyed.

Come to think of it, Chalmer realized, The Merovingian was who he had turned to for Persephone's safe passage. Chalmer felt a stir of something hot and angry inside him, like he had somehow been betrayed when the Merovingian had married Persephone. But she _was _safe so he let the feeling die and instead focused on the questionnaire he was to conduct.

"Our initial investigation led us to a woman named Debra Michaels-"

"The woman on the news for tax fraud?" Persephone asked. She winced suddenly, but Chalmer did not know why, though her husband's eyes had narrowed when she spoke.

"- Yes, but she did not have the resources to arrange the attack on her own." He

answered "We watched her movements after that, and discovered that she had an accomplice by the name of 'Frank Larson', and a tip we received earlier today suggested he may have a connection to you."

"What kind of connection?" Persephone looked alarmed.

At the same time the Merovingian asked, "Who gave you this tip?" Persephone winced again and The Frenchman's eyes narrowed further.

Chalmer chose to answer Persephone first, "This restaurant was mentioned...Well, not by name, we were given the address with the promise that someone here would be able to answer our questions." He then replied to the Merovingian, displeased that anytime Persephone opened her mouth her husband did something under the table to silence her. His tone was distinctively colder, "As for who gave us this information, that is our business and none of your concern."

Seconds ticked by in tension filled silence before Harris spoke up, "You may feel free to deny any association with Mr. Larson if you wish," He offered, allowing for the Frenchman to choose his level of cooperation "the name of this man, however, has a connection to this place, so you cannot deny that. Perhaps he is merely a frequent customer?"

Agent Chalmer and the Merovingian stared at each other from across the table. Chalmer's face remained expressionless but for the slightest downward curve of the corners of his mouth. Only Persephone knew him well enough to recognize how truly upset the senior Agent was. Inversely, the Merovingian had visibly tensed, his hand reappeared from under the table and he wrapped his arm around his wife. Poor Persephone was caught in the middle of a silent war, leaning against her husband obediently, but eyes on her former partner, remembering old joys, missing them, longing for them.

Because, Chalmer could see, she was afraid.

Whatever life she lived with the Merovingian and his men now, it was a safe sheltered life full of comforts and expensive gifts. Yet it was also dangerous, her husband clearly had another life which she may or may not have involvement in, but as long as she kept her mouth shut and played happy-wife, she had nothing to worry about. But she wanted to say something now, Chalmer could see it in her eyes.

The silence lasted an eternity within a second, the Merovingian spoke muttering to himself quietly in french before clearly announcing, "The name doesn't sound familiar," _Liar_, Persephone's eyes said, "I'll keep my ears open, ask a couple of customers if they know anything, and give you a call if I learn anything. Is there a way to contact you individually, or do I have to report to-"

"Do you have a pen?" Chalmer interrupted, the Merovingian didn't look happy to be cut off mid sentence, but complied with the Agent's request, pulling a pen out of his pocket and handing it over. Chalmer took a napkin from the table, a fancy silk one, not paper like at the Baker cafe, and wrote down his call number, much to the Merovingian's clear vexation.

He handed the napkin over, knowing the Frenchman was probably going to throw it out with no intention of asking around for Frank Larson or giving them any information on him. Persephone's eyebrows furrowed seeing the number, it had been changed since they'd been together so she didn't recognize it. Chalmer glanced to her once more from behind his sunglasses before he rose from his seat, Harris and Roberts following his lead.

"I hope we hear from you soon." Chalmer said as respectfully as a lie could be.

"I'll try." The Merovingian replied between his teeth, "Good luck with your investigation."

Chalmer and his partners walked away from the table, as they did so, the remaining members of the group also rose, moving to different sections of the restaurant. Before they exited the building, Chalmer turned back looking for Persephone, this could very well be the last time he ever saw her. He hoped she was standing with her doting husband, talking about how they could improve their business, Persephone had always wanted to open a restaurant. He hoped she was not paying attention to the departing Agents, forgetting that they had visited and moving on as if he hadn't walked into her life again.

Perhaps that would have been easier for both of them.

But instead, Chalmer found her standing on her own, her hands folded over her abdomen, looking back at him. Their eyes locked, even through his sunglasses, and Persephone's lips parted, like she wanted to day something, but didn't know what. Roberts called Chalmer's name, and he turned away, leaving Persephone's words unspoken, probably for the better. Funny how seeing Persephone again made Chalmer realize how much he noticed her absence in his life.

He...missed her.

Outside there was a cat which Roberts was attempting to shoo away from his legs as it nuzzled his left shin. The cat ignored him, indifferent to the fact that it's presence was not wanted. Chalmer shook his head, that was what he needed to be, indifferent like the felines. When Roberts continued to fail at getting the cat away from his feet, Chalmer lowered himself and patted the ground in front of him invitingly before Roberts kicked the cat.

The calico padded over to him and accepted a few strokes on the head before it moved on, no longer caring. Chalmer needed to do the same: move on...No longer care about Persephone.

The phrase, _easier said than done_, came to mind, but Chalmer ignored it.

This wasn't a suggestion, it was a requirement. Forget about it. Be indifferent. It doesn't matter. Nothing you do matters...

Thankfully an order from the Source provided enough distraction that Chalmer was able to put Persephone behind him. It was time to make the final decision regarding the infiltration project, to choose between Debra Michaels or Christine Edwards as the Hacker they would hire to help bring down the terrorist organization led by Morpheus...As if that would change anything. The Matrix still needed to be reloaded, humans needed to be unplugged, the One needed to be found.

It was an endless cycle.

"What about Frank Larson?" Harris asked as they got into the care, "Do we continue the investigation?"

"Unless we receive new information on his identity we have nothing further to investigate." Chalmer replied. The sky was black with rain filled clouds that were threatening to start pouring any second, yet still the ground remained dry and the air was filled with a sort of tension. Everyone knew a storm was coming but no one could predict the exact moment things would fall to pieces. Chalmer felt a lot like those rain clouds right now, ready to burst at any moment.

But he couldn't.

He was an Agent, he had to obey, he had to crush down everything he felt. He was obsolete, no one cared what he thought, how he felt, and if he made a big scene...they just made him forget. Humans were lucky. They might be slaves being used to charge machines they didn't know existed, but they at least had a choice. This was the only reality an Agent would ever know.

The only real slaves in the Matrix.

**Author's end note: **Chalmer don't you dare get emo on me, you're supposed to be the _mature_ one!


	5. Monsters

**Author's Note: **Thank you for coming back, here's the new chapter! This one features a cameo of a friend's OC Agent Rooke from her Fanfiction _Liberation_ on DeviantArt, look for a link in my profile!

**Warning: **OC based, OC crossover, used with permission and after a sneak peek at the chapter, approval.

**Disclaimer: **Agents Chalmer, Harris, and Roberts belong to me, as well as the Record Keeper and the human character Kathryn Baker. Agent Rooke belongs to Kathrine Drake, all other things belong to the Wachoski siblings as well as anyone else who did significant work on the Matrix series. Anything you aren't sure about assume is from my imagination.

City of Corruption

"Agent Harris quit chewing that gum, it's obnoxious!" The Record Keeper snapped

Although Roberts personally had to agree with the program they were escorting, he gave her a quick glance to indicate that she had no place to be giving an Agent orders. Harris subsequently ignored the Record Keeper by refusing to spit out his gum, but at least respected the looks from his partners and chewed his gum quietly.

The Record Keeper, as the name implied, was in charge of recording all significant events in the Matrix, cataloging and storing them, and being able to find them if ever the need arose that a particular occurrence was to be restudied. The program had the form of a middle aged woman who's red-brown hair was streaked with so much gray the only reason it was ever described as 'red-brown' was as not to offend her, and was kept in a loose bun. Her face was lined with wrinkles that, out of respect, were never mentioned, and big square shaped glasses slipped down her nose almost constantly. She was dressed in what was only mentioned away from her presence as "Grandma clothes", and had the personality of the stereotypical librarian, which was what she worked as to hide her inhumanity and keep her true job secret.

She sat in one corner of the room in a single chair away from her Agent escorts with her legs crossed strictly over one another and her pointed nose stuck into a book, only looking away from it's pages to 'shhh' the Agents when they were being too loud. The Source had ordered her back for updates, but since the recent disappearance of the Keymaker security had become tighter and programs of importance such as the Record Keeper were assigned escorts to certain checkpoints from Agent to Agent.

Roberts had a disliking for the Record Keeper due to her blatant disrespect toward the Agents and the hierarchy of the Matrix, but felt as if he owed her a favor since it was this program who had handed him his first book. He had volunteered for this assignment, but since neither had anything better to be doing, Chalmer and Harris were both subjected to the Record Keeper's attitude as well.

"Agent Rooke is late." Harris commented. It wasn't an untrue statement, but still the Record Keeper looked up from her book to put her finger to her lips to give another 'shhh' in his direction.

Chalmer intervened on the younger Agent's behalf, "Do you want to make it to the Source for your updates in one piece or should I blow your head off and we'll take you there one part at a time?" He though his voice tone was no different than it ever was, the threat itself was almost uncharacteristic coming from the lead Agent.

Chalmer was usually so neutral about everything that it certainly took Harris by surprise to see him act like this. He'd been pretty moody as far as Agents went since their visit to _Le Vrail _a few days prior, and Roberts almost felt bad that he hadn't realized why until only that morning. 'Almost' being the key word here because Roberts had never really given a damn about the Venus project anyway and it still didn't really matter to him beyond it made it so he had to tiptoe around Chalmer.

Harris was young and so didn't have any clue as to why Chalmer was behaving the way he was and Roberts had decided to just let his younger partner hang in the danger zone and see if he could figure it out for himself. That's what he got for chewing gum at inappropriate times.

Back to the point, the Record Keeper snapped her book shut and rose to her feet defiantly staring down Chalmer, even though she only came up to his chest, high heels included. "I never asked to be passed around like an abused rag doll! I'm a grown woman I can walk about the city myself!" She challenged

"Really?" Chalmer asked, "And who's going to come save you when a stranger offers you candy?"

"I've been taking lessons!" The Record Keeper hissed back.

"Here we go." Roberts sighed, Harris started to rise when he signaled for him to stay in his seat, "No, no, you don't want to get between Poseidon and Odysseus. Trust me." Roberts had lent a copy of the Odyssey to his partner hence why he chose to make this particular comparison.

Harris's gaze shifted back and forth between Chalmer and the Record Keeper. "Which one is which?" he asked, having read at least enough of it to catch the reference.

"You've been taking lessons, huh? Lessons in what? Book-fu?" Chalmer replied with calm venom, as he snatched the small hard back book that the Record Keeper had been reading and held it out of her reach, making Roberts flinch "Impress me with your 'lessons'. Come on."

Though the Record Keeper could talk big and boldly speak out against Agents, she _did_ know better than to actually try to engage one and instead jumped helplessly trying to get her book from him. "Give that back!" She hissed.

The exchange bordered on embarrassing, Harris looked back at Roberts and mouthed "Should we do something?"

To which Roberts mouthed back, "Wait here." and stood, walking unnoticed to the quarreling programs. Both of them were too busy to see him come up and he was able to snatch the book out of Chalmer's hand, after which both of them turned to him. Roberts held the book, still out of the Record Keeper's reach, but pointing his gun at Chalmer. "I think this has gone on quite long enough, don't you?"

Chalmer dipped his head in resignation, perfectly willing to drop it, but the Record Keep glowered at him and made a jump to try and get the book from Roberts. While he was shorter than Chalmer the program still wasn't quite able to reach "Give it back!"

Roberts stepped out of her reach, "I will," he said in an honest deadpan, "_If_ this is the last we'll hear about this fight." The Record Keeper glared at him, but also looked longingly at the book and frightfully at the gun which was now pointed at her and nodded slowly. Roberts handed her the book, taking the time to notice that it was _Animal Farm_ by George Orwell. Not his favorite literary piece, but perhaps that was because he didn't care enough about the political references the book made to enjoy the symbolism.

The Record Keeper took her book back with a quite hiss that sounded like _"Stupid Agents think they're better than everyone else...!" _Before she turned around to return to her seat and continue reading when the door finally opened and Agent Rooke entered at last.

Of course Roberts was not the only one taken by surprise to learn that Agent Rooke was actually _female_ as the majority of their kind had the residual self-image of human males. The rare female Agents had different functions than their more common male counterparts and once again, Roberts wasn't the only one who became immediately suspicious of the female Agent's presence.

Rooke was blonde, her hair was long enough to be put in a pony-tail to keep out of her face during serious work, but was left down for now, and her eyes were hidden behind the usual Agent sunglasses, her uniform was much the same as any other Agent's modified only slightly to appear more feminine. Rooke was new to the Agency, even newer than Harris, which was perhaps why the youngest of the trio seemed to relax upon meeting her, it was rare they had contact with an Agent his own age.

Rooke offered her hand to each other the Agents apologizing for her tardiness as she had be side-tracked by a separate mission that had taken priority over this one. She looked once over at Agent Harris "Spit out your gum." She said simply and professionally.

Being told to spit out his gum was something Harris didn't like, but for his fellow Agents and the rare programs of greater importance to the system Harris would comply without argument. He took it out of his mouth and tossed the piece into the nearby trash, but Agent Rooke wasn't satisfied just yet and held out her hand, silently demanding the package of it that Harris had in his pocket, which Harris hesitated to give up, but obeyed and handed it over.

Though still suspicious, Roberts had to privately admit he had an admiration for Rooke already.

When it was said the Rooke was new, it meant that she was truly new to the Agency. A little fact about the Agents that most did not know is that the original Agents were created with the separation of a human mind from the residual self-image of said human in a process far too complex to be properly explained or understood by most. Rooke was a prime example of one such creation.

The fact that she was a female made a job like a simple escort far too menial for her.

Chalmer was the first to speak after Harris had given up his gum and Rooke had slipped it into her own pocket for later disposal. "If you will just wait a moment, I will sign the papers that officially state that we have successfully escorted the Record Keeper from Agent Miller to you. Your responsibility now is to escort her to Agent Clark who will meet you at the address assigned in this envelope." Chalmer handed Rooke the address, not even they knew where Rooke would be taking the Record Keeper next. It seemed overly cautious, but rules were rules, and they lived their lives by rules.

Rooke took the envelope and turned toward the window, peeking though the blinds at this city below them, Roberts joined her while Chalmer looked through the papers and signed them. It was an almost excessively large stack of specific instructions of what to do once they picked up the Record keeper, where to take her, where to go if the designated area was unavailable, and what to do if anything went wrong. While Chalmer filled in squares indicating their precise actions down to which floor of which building they had met Rooke at, Roberts stood by the female Agent looking out the window.

_"For so work the Honey-bees, creatures that by a rule in nature teach the act of order to a peopled kingdom."_ He said with barely audible exasperation.

To his surprise Agent Rooke knew the source of his quotation, "Henry V, Act I, Scene 2: The Archbishop of Canterbury." She said.

Roberts raised an eyebrow, "You've read the works of the Immortal Bard?" he asked, unable to hide the fact that he was impressed.

"Read them." She replied, "Not my usual taste, but enjoyable enough."

"Hmm..." As much as Roberts would have liked to further discuss literary works and find out what sort of books were to Rooke's 'usual taste', Chalmer couldn't be too much longer with that paperwork so Roberts skipped to his more desired inquiry. "What is your true responsibility? Surely as we have more important things to do than play bodyguard, you must have something else of greater consequence to occupy your time?" He asked with a hint of a smile.

Too late for this conversation, Chalmer was already handing the papers to Harris to give to the Record Keeper for him as it appeared Chalmer wasn't going to risk starting another disagreement with the other program. Still, Rooke turned back to him "My occupational functions outside of this assignment are classified." She answered as she passed him to get to the Record Keeper's side and escort her out. Roberts couldn't be sure, but he thought he'd seen her wink and him and she appeared to have the ghost of a smile too. Harris gave the paper work to the Record Keeper and without another word, both of them exited the room to continue to the next rendezvous point.

Just as the door closed, all three Agents received a report from the Source, an insectoid-type exile had been spotted close to their location, possibly related to an earlier encounter another Agent team had dealt with in which at least one had managed to escape. The trio nodded to each other knowing exactly what they needed to do, but suddenly Harris' hand shot to his ear piece.

"This is Agent Harris." He answered, since Roberts and Chalmer were not receiving this message then it could only be call meant for Harris by someone whom he had given his contact number to. "Yes of course we're still investigating... I don't know, we have another assignment at the moment... Hold on I'll tell my partners."

"Who is that?" Chalmer asked.

"That was Kathryn Baker." Harris explained, "She says she's gotten a few people to agree to interviews and wants to know if we're available and where to meet them."

Roberts looked at Chalmer, "The Frank Larson case still has some interest to the Source." He commented.

"But the Exiles might escape." Chalmer continued.

"And Kathryn said that some of them might change their minds." Harris finished, also Roberts noted he had respected the human's wish to be referred to by her first name.

Already they drew the same conclusion. "Harris go meet Miss Baker and question the people she has found for us." Chalmer instructed, "Roberts and I will take care of the Exiles."

Harris nodded in agreement and placed his hand back on his earpiece to resume the communication with the human on the other line, "Are you still there? I will be able to meet with you and the people you've gathered. Right now is good, my partners will work on the other assignment while I conduct the interviews...I'm a few blocks away from Tabor Park, can you meet me there? Alright, see you then."

With their plans made the Agents switched hosts to suit their respective assignments. Roberts took over the body of a young man who was lurking about in an abandoned warehouse no far from where the insectoid had been reportedly sighted. It did not take him long to meet back with Chalmer. Both of them pulled their guns free from their holsters and followed instructions from the Source to the Exile's location. A door separated them from their target, which when they busted down led to a room so black that whatever laid inside was invisible if it wasn't in the light from the door.

Roberts removed his sunglasses hoping for better vision, sure that Chalmer was doing the same. He'd just slipped them into his pocket when a hard body slammed against him. Roberts gave surprised gun flew put of his hand as he hit the floor and it went off as it clattered away from him. His attack punched him in the face three times before Roberts caught the assaulting fist and grabbed the wrist around his throat.

His vision mode changed, instead of seeing physical forms like he normally would, Roberts now saw the Matrix code. It was a fail-safe tactic Agents could use in emergencies such as this when a target was otherwise invisible. The program who was currently straddling him was a Succubi type exile with the appearance of female with, according to her coding, unnaturally colored red hair. She was also completely nude, which made no difference to Roberts, but against human's and lesser programs this gave her an advantage over lustful men.

Chalmer had his hands busy with the Insectoid, and a second Succubus who was identical to her partner but for a minor change in hairstyle. Chalmer shot the Insectoid several times, and threw his Succubus into the wall, while Roberts continued to wrestle with the one on top of him. These two types of exiles were much harder to exterminate than the usual runaway programs, the insectoid only vulnerable to fire, and the Succubi whose kill code was Holy Water. Chalmer's gun quickly ran out of bullets.

Roberts thrust up with his hips trying to knock the Succubus off him, she shrieked and closed her fingernails around his wrist drawing artificial blood. Roberts took no notice and thrust again succeeding this time to free himself from being pinned. The Succubus leaned forward with a snarl and butted her forehead against his, once again Roberts did not take any notice of the blow.

Then she kissed him.

The kiss of Succubi was powerful enough to coerce humans and lesser programs into surrendering to the Succubi's wishes and was part of what made them so dangerous. But an Agent was no lesser program. Roberts pushed her off him and as he did he thought of Agent Rooke from earlier, a smart, skilled professional female, who didn't rely on sexual stereotypes such as physical appearance or beguiling charm to do her job. Why would a Succubus ever think that her kiss could seduce an Agent when the females of their own kind were so far more marvelous?

Roberts started to reach for his gun only to remember that it had been knocked out of his hand and instead balled his hand into a fist and aimed a punch at the Succubus who caught his fist and twisted his arm. Roberts threw his other fist at her and the Succubus fell back a step gasping as he knocked the air out of her with a power punch to her abdomen.

A shot rang out and the Insectoid gave out a triumphant whoop when Chalmer fell to one knee having been shot in the leg. His Succubus partner swiped the gun from him and shot Chalmer between the eyes while he was unable to dodge it. The exiles acted as if it should have upset Roberts that his partner was dead, but that really meant nothing as Chalmer's body began to alter back into the form of his host.

Chalmer would be back soon enough, Roberts just had to keep the Exiles occupied until he did. Roberts dashed to the door slamming it shut so they couldn't escape that way and were trapped blind in the dark. Unlike him, they did not have the luxury of being able to access the Matrix view code. The Insectoid whimpered in the darkness "Where is he?"

"Quiet, Hobson, he'll hear you!" One of the Succubi hissed, her voice deafening in the silence.

"Isolde, I'm sacred." Came the meek whimper of the other Succubi.

"Hush, Ophidia." The first Succubus whispered, clearly caring more for the exile of the same type as her. Perhaps they were sisters.

Roberts stepped silently around the room. The exiles had backed into a wall to prevent him from sneaking up on them, since that was not his intention it didn't matter. The Succubus that appeared to be the leader still had his gun and trembled in the darkness clutching desperately, waiting for any noise to give away the Agent's position.

He looked around reading the codes in the room for any objects that could be useful to him. Across the room there was a box of matches: Fire. He could sneak up and set the Insectoid 'Mr. Hobson' aflame and while the Succubi were distracted by that he could swipe his gun back and hopefully Chalmer would return soon and they could arrest the Succubi. If they caused any more trouble there was a church not far from here that would provide them with the Succubi's weakness.

This plan was put into action within moments. Roberts had the matches in his hand and crept silently toward the exiles who were huddled closer than ever. He slipped a match out, "Where _is_ he?" Hobson asked ironically just before Roberts lit the match and dropped the flame onto the exile.

Naturally he didn't burst into an immediate inferno, but the exile did scream and panic running away from his partners which caused them to panic. Isolde, if he heard the name correctly raised the gun and fired it blindly, Roberts didn't even need to dodge the bullets because they were so far away from him. She kept firing until the clip was empty eliminated Roberts' need to liberate it from her as she tossed the weapon aside.

"Where are you, you bastard!?" Ophidia cried while Hobson continued to flail around uselessly and burn, clearly not thinking about taking off his clothes or even dropping and rolling. The light from the slowly growing flame reflected of Roberts skin and shirt making him almost visible when they finally looked in his direction.

Roberts didn't wait for them to get over their shock and went on the offensive punching, kicking, and grabbing fistfuls of hair while they punched, kicked, and scratched. Hobson tried to be useful in the fight, but only managed to get in the way and burn. At last the door burst down and Chalmer entered, throwing a bowlful of water in front of him. The water only managed to hit one of the Succubi but both screamed as the kill code destroyed her.

"Ophidia!" Isolde screamed, "You bastards!" Roberts punched her in the face and Chalmer smashed her in the back of the head with his gun effectively knocking her unconscious. The Source ordered for her to be brought in for questioning, it was likely that the two Succubi were merely keeping the Insectoid as a toy, but anytime exiles of different types were found together was cause for suspicion.

Chalmer was already taking off his coat to cover the unconscious Succubus while the kill code of the Insectoid finally activated. A quote from Friedrich Nietzsche popped into Roberts' mind as they left the dead and dying exiles behind and carried the remaining out to their car to take to the Source.

_Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you._

Curious, Roberts had never considered what exiles thought of the Agents. To the exiles, where Agents just nameless, faceless monsters? Chalmer got into the driver's seat and Roberts pushed the thought aside as he got in the passengers side. Changing thought processes, Roberts wondered if Agent Harris was having as much fun as they were.

**Author's end note:** -sleeping-


	6. Verisimilitude

**Author's note: **Writing this while awake in the wee hours of the morning so...Yeah. Been a while since we had a chapter from Harris' prospective, eh? And he's supposed to be the MAIN character! XD

**Warning: **Ocs, interviews, I actually only have part of the chapter planned as we speak so see if you can spot the place where I start making it up as I go.

**Disclaimer: **You know the drill.

City of Corruption

While the Source would be relaying his partners' status via his earpiece, Harris had long mastered the art of ignoring the Source and paying attention only to the task before him without distraction. And the task before him now was to get a new pack of gum, the one Rooke had taken earlier had lasted him three days and only had one piece left in it. Today was the first, time for a new flavor of the month, so Harris carefully inspected the packages of gum for sale at the small minute mart across the street from the park where he would meet Kathryn and the humans she brought for interviews. After a time Harris picked up a brightly colored box that had a name printed on it he couldn't read do to the weird font and bad color coordinating and quickly paid for it and was on his way.

Harris took off his sunglasses and winced as he crossed the street. Agents wore sunglasses so often that Harris's eyes were sensitive to bright light like the sun that was shining today. Around him Harris saw many other humans wearing sunglasses, and so he decided to put them back on. Safely across the street and in the park Harris tore open his new pack of gum and popped one into his mouth, the flavor was...an immediate regret on his part, something that made him tense, and he almost spat it out when it finally settled. Sour floured gum?

Hm.

During their brief exchange, Harris had agreed to meet Kathryn and the others she brought on the North side of the park, he was on the South side, and had to cross the park. He didn't mind the detour. Unlike other Agents he was aware of, Harris didn't mind humans all that much, and found them fascinating in the way some of their kind found insects to be. That what they were to him, insects, of different shapes, colors, sizes, and different visual appeal.

On top of his gum chewing, Harris also kept a mental catalog of the kinds of humans he encountered, and this walk through the park provided him with the cerebral exercise of watching the humans he passed and categorizing them based on the traits they displayed.

There was a group containing a married pair with three offspring: an adolescent, a child and a toddler, accompanied by two older adults, grandparents perhaps: A family outing. A larger pack of unrelated young males in uniforms supervised by a single male adult while they kicked a ball around: A team at soccer practice, no doubt seeing as there was no other team. Two semi-mature adults alone sitting on a blanket with a basket: A courting pair on a picnic...

"Oh, I think I see him. Harris, over here! Hey! Harris! This way! Harris!"

The Agent glanced over, confused by his lack of familiarity with the voice calling his name, he was put at ease by the sight of Kathryn Baker, though she was not the one calling for his presence. Kathryn waved him over, as did the strange female that was shouting for his attention.

"He hears you, you can stop." Kathryn was saying as Harris got closer. She was wearing her hair down this time, this was the first time Harris believed he had seen her with her hair not tied up in some fashion.

"That's the guy, huh?" The other female said, "Your mother's right Kitty, he is cute!" She giggled.

"Oh come on, not you too." Kathryn sighed, but turned to Harris, "I'm glad you're here, we were beginning to think we'd missed you."

"My apologies," Harris said, choosing to ignore the other human's comment, "I made a quick stop somewhere that took longer than I thought it would."

"Okay, well this is my friend Beth Hastings, she and her boyfriend Mark agreed to come talk to you. Mark's over under the tree with the others. You got here just in time, he was saying we should go look for you."

"But then I would have missed you." Harris commented.

"That's exactly what I told him." Beth said, and as they approached, "Hey Mark, you dumbass! Look who we found!"

Harris was slightly alarmed by her choice of words to her potential mate, but made no comment as the other humans started to get closer. There were far fewer than Harris had hoped for, only three, dis-including Miss Hastings. Mark, another man approximately forty-five years of age, and a woman closer to seventy who sat down at the bench near where Harris was now standing..

Kathryn introduced the others, "This is Marie Ledger, she's been a customer at the cafe as long as we've been open." She said touching the woman's shoulder in a casual, but affectionate way.

"The best apple-pie in the city." The woman explained in a soft, but strong voice touching Kathyrn's fingers with her own signaling that the affection was mutual. Clearly either Harris had over estimated her age or Mrs. Ledger (and he knew it was Mrs because of the ring around her finger) was simply in good health for it.

"And this is Jerome North, a frequent customer." Kathryn nodded to the forty-something man, who offered his hand.

"What Mrs. Ledger said." The man, Mr. North, added referring to the comment about the apple pie "So you're Agent Harris with the...FBI?" He asked.

Harris answered with the most straight forward reply allowed, "I work for a classified section of the government, further prying into the matter is warrant for penalty." He showed them his identifications, but only long enough for them to see that it had the name Agent Harris, his photograph, and a serial number. "Who will speak to me first?" Harris began.

"Wow, getting right down to business aren't you?" Miss Hastings laughed making her boyfriend shoot a look at her, she shot one back at him, and Harris paid no further attention to the exchange.

"My job is to collect information regarding the man known as Frank Larson, not play games. If you can provide me with any such information, please share it, if not you are of no use here." Harris stated as simply as possible, "Now, who will speak to me first?"

Miss Hastings and her boyfriend looked stunned at the sheer bluntness of the request, but Mrs. Ledger and Mr. North were not surprised. North didn't seem to be phased at all, but the elderly woman laughed as though she found the reaction from the young lovers quite amusing. "Oh I suppose we could go oldest to youngest." She eventually said, "Kathryn dear, can you help me stand, I don't want to risk my knees giving out again."

"Of course Marie." Kathryn dutifully leaned to help the other woman up.

"We can conduct the interviews here, if that would be helpful to you." Harris offered taking a seat beside her.

"Oh, thank you dear boy." Mrs. Ledger said patting his knee in a very grandmotherly fashion, normally Harris would have protested to being called 'boy', but for human's over a certain age he made an exception after one had once chewed him out about respecting his elders. The fact that he was actually older than some of them was something Harris was obligated to keep to himself.

The others started to gather around the bench, but Harris glanced up at them and they backed away again, except for Kathryn who remained standing where she was with a hand on Mrs. Ledger's shoulder. Harris allowed her to stay there as he fished his small note pad and pen from his coat pockets, and after some consideration, decided Kathryn could stay for the interview.

"Where would you like to begin, Mrs. Ledger? Anything you can tell me will be helpful." He assured her.

"I do believe that I probably have the best information of this lot. We talked a bit before you arrived, most of what they know I think is hearsay." She said, then gave a small cough and continued, "I first heard of the Larson family about thirty years ago. Just a petty group of thugs, I thought, I never thought they'd get anywhere. When I was about fifty I had an arrangement with a man who worked for the family for a favor that was never fulfilled."

"Marie?" Kathryn seemed shocked that the older woman had dealings with the Larsons.

Her concern wasn't something Harris shared, "What sort of favor did you ask?" He inquired carefully balancing the time he spent writing things down and looking Mrs. Ledger in the eye.

She touched Kathryn's hand again reassuringly, "It was nothing big, I just had a man following me I didn't know and asked for someone to find out who he was, no one ever came to help me, and Richie- my husband, confronted the stalker and he never bothered me again after that." She explained much to Kathryn's relief.

Harris nodded, "And did, or does your husband have any dealings with the Larsons?"

"Richie doesn't have any dealings with anyone anymore, I'm afraid." She answered caressing her wedding ring with her thumb sadly. "And if he ever did I'll never know, he died a month ago."

Aware that humans were sensitive to the loss of their mates, Harris glanced up from his notes mid-sentence, "I'm sorry." he said and realized that both Mrs. Ledger and Kathryn had water bubbling over their eyes. The couple must have been really close to the Baker family, he noted.

"I'm fine." Mrs. Ledger said. She was lying. But still she continued talking, "Anyway, it was during this time when I had that stalker and that man who worked for the Larsons that I was introduced to a woman named Nancy Larson. She talked like she was part of something big, and I just know she was part of _the_ Larson family, I don't know if she was a sibling, or a wife, or a parent, but she was a little younger than I was at the time and I remember her well, so I can give you a description. Clearly she not the right generation, but it might narrow down your search based on family traits, you guys can do that, right?"

"That would be helpful." Harris agreed, "Tell me what you remember."

"She was blonde." Mrs. Ledger recalled, "Not the golden kind of blond, or straw colored, sort of a dirty brown-blond, with blue eyes. Her eyes were small too, sort of narrow and she looked like she was scowling if she wasn't smiling. She had deep wrinkles, even at that age, cheeks were a little puffy. About as tall as Kathryn, the trophy wife sort of look. I used to have a photo of her that was taken by my husband, but I couldn't find it. He was a photographer."

"Mmm-hmmm." Harris nodded as he wrote this down, pretending this was truly useful information, but so far there was nothing distinctive about this description. There were over one hundred families in this city that had blonde hair as a dominate gene, and blue eyes were extremely common among the people of this city.

"They lived in Baldwin Heights, I remember that much. They gave me an address to meet them at, I never ended up going, but I still have it written down. Yes, after all these years, I know. I'm a bit of a collector if I'm ever given something I keep it forever." She reached into her purse, grabbed her wallet and after flipping through it for a few seconds produced an old piece of paper with an address written in faded black pen that was a little smudged. "I checked out the place a few days ago, a new family lives there now, but your people can use phone calls and computer things to check who lived in a place and what happened to them, right? Or is that just something they do on TV?"

Harris took the paper and memorized the address before storing it in his pocket and answered, "We have methods of tracking the previous owners, yes."

"That's all I have that's really concrete." She finished, "I'll look for the old photo some more and have Kathryn give it to you if I find it."

"That would be much more help than just the description, thank you." Harris replied. After reading over his notes and asking for clarification on a few details he wanted to double-check he had correct, Kathryn helped Mrs. Ledger to her feet, promising that Mr. North would take her home after he gave his information.

This interview was short, "I spoke to one of the Larsons on the phone once." He admitted, "The guy wouldn't tell me his first name, but he didn't bother trying to disguise his voice or anything. I was having trouble with someone in my neighborhood and apparently the right set of ears heard my complaint because he called me asking if I wanted him 'taken care of' and gave me a price to do so, it was so high I wouldn't have taken it even if I did think that was the only way to settle my problem."

Mr. North added this last part quickly as if to make sure Kathryn didn't judge him harshly for having a Larson make an offer like this to him. North told Harris about being asked to meet Mr. Larson at a small bookshop if he accepted the deal, and how he's heard of a few people who were asked to meet in the same place. Harris wrote down the address of the bookshop, though he memorized it too just in case. So far the only useful thing Mr. North had provided was a personality quirk to add to their profile of Frank Larson, the family was not afraid to make contact with people, and did not hide it when they did: They were not afraid of the authority. Harris considered again the possibility that the Larsons might be a family of programs.

There was something in his eyes that made Harris question if there was anything else that Mr. North had to tell him. The man denied it, but Harris still had the feeling something was being left unspoken. Mr. North got up, offered Mrs. Ledger his arm and escorted her away.

Next came the lovers, who insisted on doing the interview together. They proved to be less useful Mr. North. Miss Hastings kept trying to make casual talk with him before Kathryn finally managed to convince her friend to just answer his questions and tell Harris what she knew.

"I heard Frank Larson uses aliases when he goes out so no one knows who he is." She said at last.

"I use aliases when I go out, that's nothing unexpected." Harris replied slightly irritated, "Unless you know any of these aliases, that is of no use to the investigation."

"I was once working in a deli and heard Frank Larson was in the shop that day," her boyfriend offered, "I checked the computer logs because we have a repeat customer discount and I found a guy with the initials J. N. we don't accept initials so I think that might have been him."

"Do you know what J. N. stands for?" Mark shook his head, "Then we can't confirm this information and it is therefore useless. Do you have anything else?"

"I heard he likes to go to the Baker Cafe." Beth said.

"I believe Kathryn mentioned that to me, have you heard when he frequents there?" They shook their heads, "Useless. Do either of you have any concrete information, or is everything you have for me just rumor?"

Mark glared at him, "You're not like investigators on TV." he declared. "They follow any lead given to them if its rumor or not."

"Investigators on TV aren't real, and neither are their investigations." Harris replied bluntly, "This is how the real world works, now if you have nothing solid to tell me, you can stop wasting my time and just leave."

Mark got up abruptly, obviously he thought this was some sort of game and tried to take Miss Hastings with him but she stayed a moment longer. "My sister asked the Larsons for a favor once. They got her ex-boyfriend framed for murder. She couldn't pay them the money they asked for in return and she was dead a week later." She told him with tears in her eyes, "A guy came to my door the night before she was killed and asked me where he could find her. It was dark and he said I didn't need to open the door, but I told him her address. If I hadn't my sister might still be alive."

Harris was about to tell her there was nothing this story provided for his investigation but she wiped a tear off her face and continued, "They probably already know about your investigation. We might all be in danger already, so keep track of everyone you care about." She said before turning away and taking Mark's hand as they left.

Harris' eyes narrowed. That was probably the best piece of information the two had given him together. No one could know about this investigation already, unless they were someone Kathryn had talked to, but failed to convince to come speak to him. Harris added to his notes the names of everyone he'd spoken to, asking Kathryn for Mark's surname as that had never come up in his introductions: Mark Owens. Someone would have to keep an eye on these people.

"I forward the request to my superiors, but I don't know if we can spare anyone." He assured the red-headed woman as he stood up putting his notes back into his pocket.

She smiled at him, "Thank you Harris," She said, "I wish I had gotten more people to come talk to you, or at least that they'd had better information for you." Kathryn took his arm and they left the table and walked back through the park. Harris noted that the family from before had left, and the couple was packing up their picnic, the soccer team was huddled around their coach,

"Do you know the names of any of the other people whom you spoke to about these interviews?" Harris asked, "If Miss Hastings is correct about them knowing about this investigation, everyone you asked to come on is now under suspicion of being informers."

"Everyone?" Kathryn repeated. Harris nodded and Kathryn sighed again, "I told a few of our most trusted customers in the cafe and asked them to spread the word- _discreetly_, mind you that's the exact word I used, discreetly. I'm sorry, it's probably my fault if they know."

Harris shook his head, for whatever reason, he did not wish for her to feel at fault for this, "No, if you can remember who you talked to, and they can tell us whom they spoke with we may be able to narrow the suspect list." He assured her.

Kathryn looked him in the eye, "I can give you a list of the names of people I talked to and days they hang out at the cafe- I told you only our most trusted customers." She added seeing Harris raise his eyebrow. "I was actually surprised so few turned up, I think maybe some of them got cold feet. They may call me back with more information that I can send to you, do you have a mailing address or-"

"-You can reach me anytime by phone." he told her, "Actually I'd prefer it if you called, less chance of interception. Your home phone or the one at the cafe may not be secure, though, you'd have to keep it brief."

"I could use a payphone, they can't track those, can they?" Kathryn asked.

"Theyshouldn't be able to..." Harris trailed off, his mind wandering to another subject.

"What is it?" Kathryn asked picking up on the fact that Harris had something on his mind. For a human she was pretty perceptive. Not quite able to pick up on as many details as an Agent, but still impressive considering her species.

"There is an organization which our Agency is in constant conflict with," Harris began, finding no reason to lie to her, beyond the typical amount of lies anyway "Their members use payphones to keep in contact with each other so the Agency has been keeping an eye on them, it's entirely possible that the Larson family could do the same if they learn that you are using them to contact us. Its no concern, as I doubt you will be part of this investigation for much longer, just a passing thought."

"But what if I am part of this investigation longer?" Kathryn asked, he turned to her again with his eyebrows pinched together in a puzzled expression, "Oh sorry, I sound like Beth and Mark, but in crime shows it's not uncommon for the contact to get wrapped up in the investigation."

"Are you concerned about your safety Kathryn- Or is it Kitty?" Harris asked, though his question regarding her name was intended as a serious question of which name she preferred, Kathryn laughed as though it were a teasing gesture. Or maybe she was laughing about the original question.

"No, I'm not concerned about my safety, I'm a big girl who can tie her own shoes. And only my friends call me Kitty." She answered, the comment on her shoes must have been a metaphor, Kathryn continued, "What I meant was, what if you still need me to get you information the longer you have this thing going on, don't you need someone who can give you tips? How can I keep in contact with you?"

"Provided that it is necessary to keep in contact, we would have methods of giving you secure means to contact us." By this time they were out of the park and to the street. Harris expected Kathryn to pull some keys out of her pocket and get into one of the cars parked next to the sidewalk, but she did no such thing.

"You keep saying that." Kathryn said suddenly, Harris gave her another one of his puzzled looks, "_We_ will provide you with something to contact _us._ Is there no, _I _will give you this so you can contact _me, _or are you just not important enough to be an individual?"

Harris could not tell if this was sarcasm, but did his best to answer regardless, "The Agency does not work in the way your cafe does, yet in many ways much the same. You call it _our_ cafe and say _our_ customers because it is family owned and not just yours. Isn't that right?"

"I...I guess, I hadn't ever thought of that." Kathryn replied.

"In the same way, any of your siblings can provide information for this investigation because they know as much as you do, and any other Agent could conduct it because we all have the same training and skill level. You are only here today because you are familiar with me, likewise I am here because I am familiar with you."

"I understand." Kathryn nodded.

"At any point in this investigation, I may be reassigned to a different duty much like my partners were today and a different Agent will take over, maybe permanently. So _I_ cannot offer you means of communication to the Agency if you have new information, but _we_ can."

"So suppose I asked you if you wanted to join me for lunch as a thank you for everything you're doing, then I could just ask _you_, not your whole Agency. Correct?" Kathryn winked at him.

Harris was confused by this remark, "Of course you could ask me, whether I agree to come depends on if I have an assignment." He decided to answer.

"Alright then." Kathryn stopped and tugged his arm, pointing to a small restaurant across the street, with a sign that read 'Mike's grill' and said "I'm stopping there for lunch before I take a bus to my Latin class in two hours. If you do not have some sort of assignment you need to get to then I officially invite you to join me so I can thank you for all that you've done so far." She teasingly mimicked the formal cadence and diction used by the Agents she had met. She smiled waiting for an answer.

Harris put a hand to his earpiece motioning that he was checking to see if he was needed for anything. Chalmer and Roberts had discovered the exile and encountered two others, the situation was under control however and did not require Harris's immediate involvement. There was no other problem anywhere in the Matrix that another team of Agents wasn't already on, nor one that a single Agent would be of any particular use against.

"No assignments." Harris announced lowering his hand, "I will be pleased to accept your invitation."

Kathryn laughed and led him into the restaurant, "I come in here for lunch every other day," She explained, "It's got food good enough for the price they want you to pay for it, I tell you if I ever strike it rich I'm still going to come to these small places instead of those expensive restaurants that expect you to pay an arm and a leg."

Harris nodded in fake agreement, money was not a problem for Agents and so the cost of things made no difference to him, but more importantly Agents did not consume food and so that made even less of a difference. The man at the front, a big man with a dark beard, greeted Kathryn in a casual manner such as the way Harris had observed Kathryn treating Mrs. Ledger. Harris cocked his head, curious at how humans who only knew each other through a system of serving sustenance to people who were once complete strangers could ultimately lead to the familiarity Kathryn demonstrated now.

"And who's this handsome young man? Finally get a boyfriend, did you?" The man, whom Harris could only assume was Mike, said pointing to the Agent.

"Oh no, just a friend." Kathryn said, and beckoned him to come stand with her, "Mike this is Agent Harris with not-the-FBI, Harris this is Mike, owner of this fine restaurant and winner of last year's city wide 'best burger' competition."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," Harris offered his hand, which Mike took with a firm grip and shook it.

"Nice to meet you to Agent Harris. No first name though?" Mike asked as he led them to a booth at the back of the restaurant near the rear exit, but still in clear view of the street thanks to a large window.

Harris drew a blank, no one had ever asked him for his first name before, and there had never been any need to use one. Kathryn glanced at him, suddenly aware that she did not know his first name either and silently asking him. "No one outside the Agency is permitted that information." Harris said quickly making up an excuse. "For security reasons." He added noticing their disbelieving looks.

"Oh...I see, so if you're not FBI like Kitty says, then what government group are you with?" Mike asked. Kathryn certainly had a lot of friends who called her Kitty.

Harris opened his mouth, but Kathryn answered for him, "He's not allowed to tell us that either, he can show you his badge if you think he's fake though."

On cue Harris did exactly that, allowing Mike a longer look at it than he had the people in the park, but still stashed it away again quickly. Mike gave an unsure nod, but continued as if this were a satisfying answer, and handed the Agent a menu "So what can I get you Mr. Harris? Kitty, the usual?"

Kathryn nodded and Harris looked over the menu, human food was of no interest to him and he had no idea what to order, "Um...I'm really not that hungry, so what do you recommend?"

Mike smiled and took the menu from him. "I know just what you need." he said and took off without explanation. Someone else from the restaurant came by with glasses of water for them, Harris took out his gum and folded it into his napkin before he took off his sunglasses.

"Did you just quit smoking?" Kathryn asked.

"Hm? No, why?" Harris replied, puzzled not for the first time by what topics Kathryn brought up when they spoke to each other.

She nodded to the gum on his napkin, "Every time I see you you're always chewing gum, I've only known two other people who chew gum that much: little Taylor a customer back at the cafe and she's only six so she thinks she's cool...And my dad, right after he quit smoking he started chewing gum."

Harris looked at her and changed the subject, "Were you close to your father?"

Kathryn looked down at her water, a gesture indicating sadness, "Not really...Dad and I never really talked and when we did we were usually fighting. It wasn't until he passed away I realized how much he was just trying to tell me he loved me." She clutched at the cross around her neck.

Harris wanted regretted asking about her father and wanted to make some comment to make her feel better when he suddenly received an announcement from the Source, his hand flew to his earpiece so that Kathryn knew he wasn't saying nothing for no reason. A group of Zion rebels had been spotted in the city, Agents Brown, Jones and Smith were in pursuit, but the humans were splitting up and all Agents were being ordered to keep watch for them.

"What is it?" Kathryn asked, "Or are you not allowed to tell me?" She added as an after thought.

Harris decided to humor her, "Do you remember the terrorist organization I mentioned earlier?" He asked, when she nodded he went on, "Some of our Agents have spotted activity, and we've been requested to watch for them."

Kathryn looked startled, "Are they nearby?"

Harris emulated the gesture of shaking his head to confirm a negative response, "Not currently, but the group that was spotted has scattered and the Agents pursuing them can't keep track of the-"

Kathryn reached over suddenly and pulled the device connecting Harris to the Source away from his ear. Alarmed, Harris made a move to return it back to it's proper place, but Kathryn caught his hand. "If they aren't nearby don't worry about it, just relax. I'm sure Big Brother won't mind you taking a lunch break."

Harris could do anything but relax at that moment. With his earpiece out, Harris was no longer connected to Chalmer and Roberts, no longer aware of what their current situation was, no longer being updated to the status of the Zion rebels. He felt blind, deaf, and lost, it was only the lack of proper emotions that kept Harris from experiencing panic.

Suddenly someone in the kitchen dropped something that smashed loudly against the floor. Harris jumped, of course other people in the restaurant jumped too, but Harris was particularly alarmed. The amount of noise in the restaurant had Harris on edge. His discomfort was apparently obvious because Kathryn kept trying to soothe him.

"Do you never take that thing out?" She asked.

"We need to be available for whenever someone needs us to- to..." Harris was unable to keep his thoughts organized for a proper response, his mind torn up wondering about Chalmer and Roberts, the Zion rebels, and what was happening around him. Harris kept glancing around nervously, as if he expected any second for Zion rebels to come in through the door and shoot the place up.

Eventually though, Harris started to relax. Mike returned with a salad and grilled cheese sandwich for Kathryn, and set a plate of bacon in front of Harris. They had just thanked him for the food when the door opened, Harris turned to see and there was a man wearing black leather and sunglasses, classic trademarks of the Zion rebels. The man was sweating and panting as though he had been running for a while. He glanced around the restaurant and locked eyes with Harris. "Fuck. How do you guys always know...?" He said pulling out a gun and aiming it toward Harris.

"Get down!" He shouted toward Kathryn. Not a moment later there were several bullet holes in the cushioned seat where Kathryn had been.

Harris had his own gun out and kept ducked behind the seat to shield himself from the rebel's fire until he was out of bullets. Kathryn's screams alerted Harris to the fact that she was under the table, her sudden shout of Mike's name informed him that the owner had been hit with a stray bullet. All of this he might have known if he had his earpiece in to relay details his own eyes couldn't perceive, but Harris didn't have time to fit it back into place. The rebel was out of rounds.

"Kathryn get outside!" Harris hissed to her, nodding to the back door which he was very thankful they were so close to. Kathryn nodded, her eyes were red with frightened tears, but she was staving off panic, and made a bolt for the door. At the same time Harris dove out and fired his gun at the rebel who was trying to reload his gun.

Normally humans tried to run or hide, so Harris was a little surprised to see that this one was actually trying to confront him. Without the Source's aid in deducting his motives, Harris was left to draw his own conclusions. Humans tended to be loyal to members of their species, and more so to their specific groups. This man perhaps thought that Harris was one of the three original Agents that had been perusing his team, and was he trying to provide distraction so that other members of his group could escape?

The man dodged a couple of the bullets fired at him by ducking down, but he was not fast enough to completely avoid them. Two bullets were lodged in his right shoulder and left leg, he stumbled to the ground. Humans who before were too terrified to move jumped up and ran around trying to escape while the terrorist was no longer a threat. While this was for the better of their survival, it proved only to be a hassle for Harris, as they blocked his path to the Zion rebel.

As the crowd finally started thinning out, Harris realized the man had vanished from the spot he had fallen. Harris scanned the crowd of humans still bustling about as recognized the suspect among them. He quickly slipped his earpiece back into his ear, and was immediately relieved to find out Chalmer and Roberts were on their way. Two of the humans who were still in the restaurant froze as their bodies were suddenly claimed as hosts for his partners.

They quickly surrounded the rebel, Harris' gun had only one bullet left, but if the human continued to be a problem one bullet was all that would be needed. Chalmer and Roberts both had full clips if for any reason it wasn't. Not a word was spoken, Roberts reached forward and grabbed the rebel by his wounded arm, for his credit the human did not cry out in pain, Chalmer took the other arm. It was very likely that at any time, humans in the real world would sever the connection between their worlds which would instantly kill this human. A sacrifice they deemed necessary to keep their secrets.

_Humans in the real world..._

Harris glanced to the back door where Kathryn had escaped, and saw the form of Mike lying on the floor with a bullet in his side. He was dying, yes, but not completely beyond help if it reached him in time. Harris felt a stir of something inside him, pity, and touched his earpiece "Someone send medical aid to this location, there are civilians that were injured in the crossfire." It was protocol to send for help if humans were hurt, because it kept the image that the Agents were good and the terrorists were bad. It aided in keeping civilian trust.

But Harris felt something else now, a genuine concern for this man's life, "Hurry." He added. He looked at the back door, wondering if Kathryn would return through it now that the gunfire had ended, but no such thing happened. Probably for the best, she was better off getting as far away from this place as possible.

He looked back at Mike, and the human rebel Chalmer and Roberts were escorting out. It was likely they would both die, that human and Mike. One so he would not reveal secrets to them (whether because his own people ended it, or because the Agency could not get what they wanted), and the other because he was simply in the way. What did the Zion rebels think they were accomplishing? They wanted freedom for their people, but at what cost?

What about the real world was so much better than this one?

**Author's end note: **Sorry if the ending of this chapter sucks, I actually wanted it to end sooner but the scene just wasn't wrapping itself up, so I gave up.


End file.
